


Guaranteed To Lose My Mind.

by kotabear24



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Race Changes, Alternate Universe - World War II, Concentration Camps, Depiction of Violence, Harry is a Jewish Child, Holocaust, Jewish Character, Louis is the Son of Adolf Hitler, M/M, Nazis, Period-Typical Racism, Racism, Racist Language, Tattoos, mention of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 19:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1196523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kotabear24/pseuds/kotabear24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Liam are Jewish children who are just trying to make the guards happy. Zayn is the son of Gypsies and much smarter than everyone else in this fic. Louis is Adolf Hitler's son and doesn't get why it's important until it's too late. Niall's a History major fifty-something years later and is an accidental match-maker. </p><p>Or,</p><p>Louis' the little boy who sits on the other side of the second fence against his father's wishes and falls a little bit in love with the little boy who smashes coal to impress the guards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guaranteed To Lose My Mind.

**Author's Note:**

> So, omg, I don't even know where this came from but I'm sorry. Also trigger warning for violence. There might be some cultural/minor historical inaccuracies, but I tried! Sorry if they irritate you too much.
> 
> (Title from "Resolution" by Matt Corby.)

“Out, you mongrel. Get out here.”

Harry flinched at the _m_ word, and Liam took his hand and pulled him along. “Come on, Harry,” he whispered. “We can’t dawdle. Let’s go.”

Harry followed Liam from the camp room they and several other children their size and age range had been placed in. Zayn, the bravest boy among them, followed the guard just ahead of them with his head held high. He never cried, and though he did what the guards told him to do, he did it with pride and worked the hardest, showing the guards in the camp that he was worth keeping around a while. Harry and Liam thought he was incredible, but Zayn never talked back to them, not even at night when they whispered about their parents and siblings. Liam had two sisters, but his father was dead, leaving their mother to care for all four of them. Harry had one sister but both parents. And a cat.

Liam pulled Harry along, and they followed Zayn and, by extension, the guard, out to the dirt landing where they were meant to smash rocks into smaller rocks. Harry didn’t understand the use of it, but Zayn started immediately, working calmly and efficiently. Liam started in with fervor, and he looked tired within _minutes_. Harry started slower than both of them, struggling under the hammer’s heavy weight. 

It was a long day, just like every day before. One of the children was beaten in front of them, struck repeatedly on her back with a whip until she bled through her uniform, and it made bile raise in Harry’s throat and tears sting his eyes. Liam pulled Harry to his chest quickly, hiding his face so he wouldn’t be able to watch, but he couldn’t cover Harry’s ears, too. Liam shook as he turned away from the sight, dragging Harry along with him to the outer fence, as far away from the girl’s screams as possible. 

The rocks over there were bigger, and more dangerous, but the guards were impressed that Liam wanted to try breaking them. “Harry, go to the south wall; the rocks are smaller and you’ll be able to impress them,” Liam said, grunting as he made progress on a boulder. 

Harry nodded and walked on, and found a rock that was just right for his strength. He could probably break it into acceptable pieces if he worked on it the rest of the day, and maybe the guards would bring his family back. With drying tears and a spark of hope, he began to work. 

When the buzzer went off, Harry followed what he could see of the guard’s uniform, standing tall over their young, low heads. He tripped over a loose rock, but Liam caught him before he could smash his face, and they walked in together. It was dark when they finally reached their room, and Harry noticed the little girl wincing as she moved straight towards her bed. 

That night, just like every other night, Harry and Liam lay close together on the ground so they could whisper without being caught and reprimanded. “When we get out, I will take _Ema_ to a great fancy dinner,” Harry whispered, his eyes wide in the darkness. “And we will dance and eat and celebrate. She will never put me in time-out again, and she will hold me and kiss me so often I will have lips on my cheek painted.”

Liam sighed. “ _I_ will take my _ema_ to America,” he said.

“Where’s that?” Harry asked, his cheeks blushing when Zayn snorted from his spot next to Liam. They turned to look at him, but he’d already turned over to face the other direction. 

“America is where they like _everyone_ ,” Liam said patiently. “The people there are on the other side of the war. They want to take care of us.”

Frowning, Harry remembered that Liam was much older than him. “What’s a war?” He asked slowly, looking over Liam’s shoulder at Zayn, who stayed quiet this time. 

“A war is when two people don’t agree on something,” Liam explained, “so they get real angry and start hurting each other and their families and stuff.”

In the darkness, Harry snuggled closer to Liam, glad Liam let him. “We’re in a war?” He asked, whispering. 

Liam nodded, allowing Harry to scoot closer. “We’re America’s people, kind of. They’re the good guys.”

“Then how come we’re _here_?” Harry asked, rotating his sore ankle in dismay. “How come America isn’t taking care of us?”

“They are,” Liam said, “or they will. They’re fighting for us, and they’re looking for us. _Ema_ always said the people in America will save us from the Nazis.”

“Nazis?”

“Shhh,” Liam shushed, scratching the fuzz that was starting to grow back on Harry's scalp, from when the guards all shaved everyone’s heads. “We’re with the Nazis, but the Americans will save us. Don’t you worry, Harry.” 

With a heavy, troubled, and confused heart, Harry fell asleep, and woke to a guard growling the _m-word_ in his ear.

\--

That day, Harry went straight to the same place as he had yesterday, right along the fence, and he walked around, pounding small-ish rocks he could handle before walking onward again. When he came to the northeastern section of the wall, he saw a small tin building – probably a rest room for guards. Harry paid it no attention; guard buildings were of no interest to Harry, but the shade that came with it was nice. 

Harry was almost done breaking a rock when he heard something behind him.

“ _Pssst!_ ”

Harry whirled around, his racing heart already calming, knowing it was probably just Liam or one of the other kids in his group. The other kids scared him sometimes, because he was so much younger than him. Harry was tall for his age, so they’d ignored him when his tiny, scared voice said he was only seven and put him with Liam and the other 9-12 year old kids. Liam had taken to Harry instantly, usually keeping very close to him, and that paired with the business of their work since they’d gotten off the train had kept the other kids from their teasing. 

It wasn’t Liam, though, and Harry nearly cried out as he backed up instinctively, tripping over a rock and landing on his backside. 

On the other side of the fence, there was a walking path and then another fence that led to a house. Liam had said the house was where the guards lived, when they weren’t on duty, and that the highest-ranking guard had his own room, on the very upstairs so he could just look out of his window and make sure everything was going according to his plan.

Usually, that second fence held a bit of a yard and the house, and Harry had seen guards come and go as their duties called for, but today, there was a little boy in front of it.

“Shh, don’t be scared! Don’t shout!” The boy said, looking around carefully. “Papa would be so upset if he knew I was out here! He only likes me to play in the backyard, but I was _bored_.” The boy pouted, his blue eyes getting big and his pale little lips drooping into an exaggerated frown. “I’m Louis,” he added, grabbing the fence and twisting his fingers through the diamond cut-outs. “What’s your name?”

Harry didn’t grab onto his fence – it was barbed wire, and Liam had said sometimes it had electricity running through it that could hurt him. Instead, he sidled closer, and clutched tightly at his hammer. “’M Harry,” he said slowly, and looked back down to his forearm, where his identification number had been put into his skin forever with a searing needle. As he felt the swooping shame, he looked down at his feet and said, “I mean, _A23811_.”

Louis’ eyes widened and he breathed, “You’re – are you a _gypsy_?”

Harry’s eyes widened, too, and he shook his head. “N-no, I’m – ” Harry looked around, seeing that the coast was clear, and whisper-yelled so Louis could hear, “I’m _Jewish_.”

Louis gasped. “ _Whoa_ , I’ve never met a 5-3-9 before!” He said, looking excited. Harry took a step back, flinching from the name, and Louis frowned. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

Biting his lip, Harry admitted, “My _em_ \- my mother told me to never let anyone call me that.” Louis’ eyebrows rose, and Harry blushed. “It’s not a nice word,” he said. 

Louis blinked, and his face turned remorseful. “I don’t mean anything by it,” he said, clutching tighter at the fence like he could make it disappear. “That’s just what my papa calls you people.”

Harry nodded, blinking back tears of shame he couldn’t understand the presence of. Louis’ voice saying _you people, you people_ rang in his head, and he cleared his throat. “I, uh – I have to get back to work,” he said, and started backing away.

“Wait!” Louis cried out. “I – there’s only one other boy in the house with me, and he’s in trouble so he can’t play with me for a few days. Please, come back.”

Harry wanted to – he did – but he remembered the guards whipping that little girl yesterday, and shook his head. “We – the guards get angry with us if we don’t work,” he said. “Bye.” Harry gave Louis one last look before he ran off, carefully watching his feet and struggling with his heavy hammer. For the rest of the day, he worked hard, and ignored Liam’s concern, and followed Zayn in when the guards signaled them to. 

When they laid down that night, Liam nudged Harry’s side with his knee, but Harry didn’t say anything.

\--

Louis chewed his dinner slowly, watching his parents as he replayed the afternoon in his head. Finally, he spoke up. “Papa, is 5-3-9 a bad word?”

Louis’ mother stopped cutting her meat and his papa swallowed after a pause. He set his fork down and gave Louis a hard stare. “Of course, it isn’t, boy,” he said quietly, imperiously. “What else are we supposed to call those damned mongrels out there?” He jerked his head towards the camp. “They aren’t intelligent; if we don’t give them something to identify with, they’ll cause trouble.”

“Isn’t that why we brought them here, though?” Louis wondered. “To give them things to do to keep them out of trouble? They need extra names, too?” 

Louis’ papa stood from the table suddenly, looking angry. “You listen to me, Louis,” he said, his voice a threatening calm. “Those people in those camps are too ignorant for their own good, and if left alone, they will ruin the world. We’re doing a good thing, here.”

\--

The next day, Harry deliberated whether he wanted to see if Louis was at the fence again or not. He stayed with Liam for quite a while before curiosity got the best of him. He went slowly, so as not to draw attention to himself, and once the guards and Liam couldn’t see him anymore, Harry walked quickly over to the building, peeking around it.

Louis sat at the same spot, straightening up in excitement when he noticed Harry. “Harry! Hi!” He waved, bouncing on his knees. “You came back!” He said happily.

Harry nodded warily, and looked around for a rock he could smash while simultaneously talking to Louis. He found one and got behind it so he could see Louis, and said, “Hi,” before he grunted, bringing the hammer down onto the rock. It barely chipped, but Harry felt like maybe he was getting stronger.

“What are you doing?” Louis asked, standing and pushing his fingers through the fence again. “Why do you have a hammer? I’m not allowed to play with hammers. Mother says I’ll hurt somebody.”

“I’m not playing; I’m working,” Harry said simply, shrugging before he pulled the hammer around again. “The guards who wake me up bring me and the other kids in my group out here every day. We smash the rocks up into small little pieces and then put them in this bag,” Harry explained, brandishing the bag he always had on his person when he was in the field. “They weigh our bags and if we have enough weight, they don’t get mad.”

Louis frowned. “That’s no fun,” he mumbled, and Harry shrugged again.

“There’s not a whole lot of _fun_ for us, on this side of the fence,” he explained, “but at least we’re alive. _Yes_ ,” he hissed triumphantly as the next hit of his hammer broke apart several lumps of the rock that could be put away into his bag. 

Louis watched him sweep the stuff into his bag quietly, and then asked, “How many are there in your group?” 

Harry shrugged as he continued on the leftover piece of rock. “I dunno, about sixteen or so, I’d say. It’s a small room; I don’t think any more would fit.” Louis huffed, and Harry volunteered more information. “They’re all older than me, so I have to work real hard to keep up. I have to impress them if I ever want to see Ema and Aba again.”

“Who’s that?” Louis asked, brows furrowed. 

“Wh- oh, that’s “mother” and “father”, in my language. Sorry,” he said a little sheepishly. He wasn’t supposed to speak Hebrew at the camp; the guards told the kids in his group that immediately. “I forget; it’s like that’s their names, sometimes.”

Louis shrugged. “My mother’s name is actually Johanna, but I only ever call her “Mama”. The other name just doesn’t sound as good.” Harry laughed a little, and Louis grinned and sat down, pulling his legs up in front of him. “So, where are your parents now?” He asked.

Harry felt the familiar sting at his eyes, but he wouldn’t let himself cry. Zayn never cried. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “The guards separated us on the train ride. I haven’t seen then or my sister in a long time.”

Louis let out a soft _oh_ , and Harry shrugged, sweeping small rock bits into his bag again. His arms hurt already. “I don’t know how to get out, but hopefully, one day, I will.”

Louis sat back thoughtfully, watching Harry smash rocks, until he stood, excited and jumping. “ _Arbeit Macht Frei! Aerbeit Macht Frei!_ ”

Panicked, Harry looked around, hoping Louis wasn’t calling the guards in his language. No guards came, though, and Louis was smiling. “Work Brings Freedom,” he said finally, pointing past the building, towards the gates of the camp that none of its inhabitants could reach. “It’s written on the gates; it must mean something! You’re doing it correctly,” he said, beaming at Harry.

“I hope so,” he said, smashing up the rocks while his heart rate lowered again. “What are you doing on that side of the fence, anyway?” He asked. “Is your father a guard?”

Louis scoffed. “No! Those guards seem so awful,” he said with distaste. “Taking you from your home and family, making you work and getting so angry. My papa is nothing like that. He’s the smartest, bravest, most kindest man in the world. He’s a leader, you know.”

Harry paused, listening to Louis’ words, and then smiled, going back to work, and they stayed out in the hot sun until Louis said his mother would be looking for him soon. Harry said goodbye and wandered back to the part of the field the guards could see, his bag a bit heavier than typical, and smiled at Liam when he caught his eye.

That night, they waited until the guards were gone and Harry told Liam in whispers about Louis. Liam was anxious immediately, but Zayn snorted and actually turned around to face them. “Listen to me, Harry,” he said quietly, shocking both Harry and Liam. “His father might not be a guard, but he is here for a reason. Be friends with him if you must – but be careful what you tell him.”

For the first words from Zayn, they seemed harsh and ominous. But Harry knew Zayn was intelligent, and upon his own reflection, he knew Zayn was right. Liam squeezed his shoulder and gave him a sympathetic look, and Harry grimaced back. “Okay,” he finally answered, but Zayn was already turned around on his other side, and asleep.

\--

“Papa, what is it like for the campers?”

Louis’ papa looked up from his desk with his brows furrowed, his moustache twitching along with his lip. “What was that?” He asked, confused.

“Well – it’s a camp for them, right?” Louis asked, venturing a step closer to his papa. “We’re trying to help them, so they don’t get hurt or make trouble. ‘Cause they’re not smart, right?”

Louis’ papa chuckled and pulled Louis up onto his lap. “Exactly, boy,” he said, sounding a little proud. It gave Louis confidence.

“So, do the guards make it fun for them? When you teach me things, and make me safe, you always make it fun so I like doing things some more. But it doesn’t look very fun, all that work they do. And they sure are skinny.”

Louis’ papa frowned and mussed up Louis’ hair. “Don’t worry, boy,” he said grandly. “The guards make sure the campers are taken care of. They’re doing what’s best for the campers, even if it looks like not much fun at the moment. When it’s all over, you won’t hear a single camper telling you it wasn’t fun.”

A little relieved, Louis ignored the glint in his papa’s eye and smiled. He leaned up and kissed his papa’s cheek, and hugged him, and let his papa ease his worries for his secret new friend Harry.

\--

Harry and Louis met every day they could for the next few weeks, and Harry developed new strategies for the rocks – Louis called the rocks _mined coal_ – so he could talk and still work hard. Louis often made promises of rescue and happy futures to Harry, ensuring him that no matter what happened, he’d be happy. Harry found Louis enchanting, and even though Zayn’s warning often echoed in his head whenever he caught himself watching Louis laugh from behind fences, Harry’s days revolved around the few hours he could get with his friend.

Things were changing, though – more and more children in Harry’s group were being escorted out by guards and not returning. In his naivety, Harry chose to believe they were being picked for freedom, and questioned internally why Zayn, Liam, and himself, who worked hardest of all, were never picked for release.

\--

“How much work must a camper do before he is granted freedom?” Louis asked. Silence rang at the dinner table before Louis’ papa cleared his throat.

“Never, Louis,” he said. “They will never be freed. That is a lie we tell them to give them hope; to keep them working.”

“ _Adolf_ ,” Louis’ mother hissed at his papa, not approving of the answer. Louis’ face drained, but he made himself swallow and smile weakly, knowing his papa would be displeased by any other response.

“It’s about time the boy knows what’s happening, Johanna,” Louis’ papa said. “Those _animals_ are evil, boy, and they’ll ruin your life as soon as look at you. Don’t you dare trust a single one. Ever.” Louis’ eyes widened at his papa’s abrupt anger. His papa looked between Louis and his mother, but when his mother didn’t answer, he stood and stormed off, muttering under his breath. 

Louis looked down at his plate, feeling bad for upsetting his papa that way. The man thundered out of the room and Louis’ mother was quickly at his side, petting soothingly at his hair. 

“My sweet, sweet Louis,” she cooed quietly. “You were not meant for a world like this, my boy.” Louis looked up at his mother hopefully, silently begging her to say that Harry wasn’t scum or evil. But she took his face in her hands and gave him a serious, sincere look as she told him, “Whatever mongrel has your head filled with fantasies is sneaky and wrong. You are _pure_ , Louis; don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” She kissed him on the forehead and pushed his plate towards him, turning it a bit so Louis would eat his vegetables. 

She stood and started walking out of the room, but she paused before she reached the door. “We’re leaving here tomorrow at noon,” she told him. “Your father has received word that the Red Army is coming. We need to be gone by the time they are here. Pack your things tonight.”

\--

Louis hadn’t been there for two days. Harry didn’t speak to Liam or Zayn much, and he found his bag was lighter each day than it had been in the previous weeks. He slept earlier and let Liam hold him tightly while Zayn watched on with a sympathetic face.

\--

Harry woke to a heart-stopping explosion. Dust in the room was stirred everywhere, and the ground shook a bit, but nothing was burning or falling in his immediate vision. Zayn and Liam were already on their feet, and Liam’s hand clasped Harry’s tightly. 

Zayn ran to the window and gasped, looking back at Liam. “Auschwitz-Birkenau is on fire!” He whispered, running quickly to Liam and Harry. “Come, we have to hide from the guards here!”

He pushed them all under their bunkers, making them curl up towards the back as far as they could get, and they waited silently while others cried in their bunk holes. Harry held his breath as the door burst open, and soldiers in white camouflage searched the room.

“We are the Red Army,” they announced slowly. “We are here to take you home.”

Liam, ever the brave and protective one, ventured out first, and received a hug and a cookie, and he cried as soon as the soldier’s arms went around him gently. Harry and Zayn followed, and soon the remainder of the children in Harry’s room were surrounded and crying. A few children from Auschwitz-Birkenau were there, looking half-dead, and Harry gave a set of twins his blanket. They were marched out and put back on trains.

Harry stayed close to Liam and Zayn, and asked repeatedly where the train was going. In the back of his mind, he wished Louis could promise him a happy ending one last time. Liam and Zayn didn’t _know_ , and Harry cried himself to sleep on the rickety train.

\---

\---

Harry had been a good baker, and his miraculous somewhat-success – in addition to his friendship with Liam-the-Jew and Zayn-the-Gypsie’s-son – had landed him in a halfway-decent retirement home. He never went out and mingled; the noise overwhelmed him and triggered anxiety attacks. He was kind to the nurses, though, and did as they directed, and a very kind young man visited him every Thursday afternoon. 

His name was Niall, and he was Irish. He’d started coming by because he was studying History as a major, and Harry had agreed to give him some information on the Holocaust. After breaking down in tears, though, Niall had assured Harry not to worry about it – that he could get his information elsewhere. 

Harry had thought for sure that he would never see Niall again, but the boy showed up the very next week, sitting right down in a chair and telling Harry about his classes and a lovely young girl he wanted to date. He asked if Harry had ever dated, or if he’d stayed a “hot bachelor” his entire life. Harry had only laughed. One Thursday in July, the city lost power, and the retirement home had been forced to open every window and move food from the refrigerators. Harry had given in and worn a short-sleeved shirt, feeling shame and embarrassment cut him like a knife every time he saw the number on his skin. 

Niall came by, and Harry had nearly teared up when the boy saw his identification number. Niall had grabbed Harry’s weathered hand, though, and rubbed the back of it. “This isn’t something you should wear in shame, Mr. Harry,” he said gently. Harry gritted his teeth. “This mark shows that the world was cruel to you, but you _fought it_ and _won_.” He looked at the marks, then, and his eyes widened. “Mr. Harry,” he said shakily, “is – does yours say _A23811_?”

Harry nodded, caressing the mark with a finger, closing his eyes, but Niall stood quickly, causing Harry to jump a bit.

“Sh- sorry, I – I’ll be right back, okay? I promise. I just – I’ll be right back.”

Niall ran out of the room and took a left, racing through the halls as if it weren’t a retirement home.

\--

Niall was true to his word, but when he returned, his eyes were bloodshot and swollen, as if he’d cried for a good while. “Is everything okay, Niall?” Harry wondered cautiously, and Niall sat down.

“Mr. Harry, do you remember how you told me you only loved one person – someone you met at Auschwitz?” Harry stiffened at the unexpected topic, but nodded anyway. 

“He met me on the other side of the fence every day for weeks,” he said, chuckling at the memory. “Why do you ask?”

Niall took a deep breath and answered, “Was his name Louis?”

It had been at least fifty years since he had heard that name, and yet the second it left Niall’s mouth, Harry could see Louis, clutching the fence like he always did, bouncing with excitement. “Yes,” he whispered, and the tears prickled at his eyelashes. “Louis.”

Niall grabbed Harry’s hand. “Mr. Harry…I think I know your Louis. I think I know him…because he’s the one I ended up using as a source for that history paper I needed all those weeks ago. Do you remember? I met a man who lived through the Holocaust, and…he lived _next_ to Auschwitz for some time. I think it’s him because he has that same number tattooed over collarbone.”

Harry stared at Niall in shock, which quickly turned into anger. “Get out,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“ _Get out_ ,” he reiterated. “I will not have some _child_ make a mockery of my _life_. Get out, and grow up, Mr. Horan.”

Niall still looked shocked – and, fairly, Harry was shocked at himself – but he left nonetheless, looking back at Harry sadly. Harry let himself cry and slept an extra two hours the next morning.

\--

Harry didn’t get a visitor the next Thursday.

On Friday, though, a knock sounded at his door and an old man, about Harry’s age, came in. His hair was a dark grey and his eyes were startlingly blue. His skin was tan and only slightly spotted and his lips were thin and light pink. He was the handsomest man Harry had ever seen, and he had a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He looked nervous, but he stood in one spot, bouncing excitedly on his feet. Harry’s chest felt like it was so full all of a sudden it could burst, but he wouldn’t even be sad if it did.

“Louis,” Harry breathed, his eyes wide.

“Hi, there, Harry,” Louis said, smiling.


End file.
